


freckles

by lobnster



Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Fluff, Freckle Kissing, Happy Ending, Kissing, M/M, One Shot, Romantic Fluff, Romantic Friendship, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, can i use these like tumblr tags, yeah man i dont know what im doing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-15
Updated: 2021-02-15
Packaged: 2021-03-16 09:54:40
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,566
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29451888
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lobnster/pseuds/lobnster
Summary: There were no fireworks, no beating of hearts in sync, no butterflies in his chest... but there were freckles.orGeorge finally makes it to America. Turns out, both of them have freckles.
Relationships: Clay | Dream/GeorgeNotFound (Video Blogging RPF)
Comments: 12
Kudos: 201





	freckles

**Author's Note:**

> I've never posted on ao3 before and I haven't written anything for at least 6 months... but y'know I had to write about my boys. If there are any grammatical mistakes or tips I'm open to hearing them!!

The airport was suffocating.

Apparently, everything has to be excessively massive in America, which just so happens to include the airports. Whoever built them spent a stupid amount of money wasting that space on making towering ceilings rather than foot space.

Everything was suffocating but empty at the same time, people bumping into him but the air above unending. George didn’t want to stay there any longer.

Taking a deep breath of less than clean air, George dug his phone out of his back pocket. Automatically, he opened it and let his fingers drift subconsciously to Dream’s messages.

_where are you?_

Delicately pressing the off button, George shut off his phone and lifted his head to admire the ceiling. The expansive white walls and windows had no reason to be there, but he supposed they’re admirable enough. Everything was dull. Unsurprisingly, white isn’t the most lively color. He exhaled.

Gentle arms wrapped around his waist.

“Fu- holy shit, Dream you can’t just do that.” He tried to twist his body to face Dream but the man behind him just held on tighter.

“That’s not a very nice way to greet your best friend, now is it?” He could feel Dream’s lips resting on the top of his head, hyper-aware of the arms still sturdily around his waist.

George scoffed fondly, “I think a good way to greet your so-called ‘best friend’ would be to let him see you.”

Dream hummed thoughtfully, “No.”

“No?”

“No.”

“You’re such an idiot,” his voice barely above a whisper, dripping with affection.

“You love it,” Dream maneuvered his arms so he could turn George around to face him, keeping his arms securely around him.

There were no fireworks, no beating of hearts in sync, no butterflies in his chest... but there were freckles.

“You have freckles.” Dream pointed out, deadpan.

George blinked, still processing, lips pulled up in a small smile. “I do. I thought perhaps Twitter had drilled that through your head.” Dream opened his mouth to talk before George cut him off again, “I feel as if I should be telling you this, I’m the one who’s only ever gotten blurry, half-assed pictures of you.”

Dream’s face swiftly lit up in a smile so jovial, so completely and utterly Dream. “But you actually have freckles, George. Twitter wasn’t overreacting.” His smile somehow got wider, eyes pooling with complete awe, “You have freckles.”

Distantly, George wondered if his face looked as enamored as Dream’s did. If maybe his voice reflected the absolute adoration his chest was filled with. If maybe the dismal, lifeless airport had gotten brighter or it was just his imagination. “Yes, I do. And you do too.”

Dream’s gaze was still flickering over his, seemingly trying to soak up every last detail, mouth slightly parted, eyes brimming with infatuation. “Come on, idiot, people are gonna recognize us.”

And if they purposefully bumped into each other just to have an excuse to keep contact or if Dream made fun of George for accidentally getting in on the wrong side of the car, that was their secret to keep.

—-

The car felt free.

The air didn’t feel as heavy in the car, the streets were brighter, there weren't crowds of strangers constantly touching him, Dream was on the “wrong side of the car”, everything felt okay.

Pure comfort wrapped around him like a blanket, sleep weighed on his eyelids, sweetly coaxing him to fall asleep. George had almost drifted off when Dream’s voice interrupted the silence, “I know you’re tired, George and I won’t make you go anywhere until you get over your jet lag,” he raised a tired eyebrow, “ but we are going to the store and you are going to try American snacks.”

George glanced over to Dream to see the corner of his lips pulled up in a small, fond smile. His hair looked like a mess (like he had run a hand through it one too many times), eyes bright and excited, his freckles stood out in the sun. They made eye contact.

“Keep your eyes on the road, dumbass.”

—-

Somehow they got in and out of the store without Dream being recognized and without George falling asleep. A miracle.

“Dreeeam.” George didn’t need to say his name, there was no reason, but it gave him a strange sense of comfort. Dream was there, he’s here, he’s with him, they’re finally here. Together.

They were home, George trying not to slip into sleep on the couch, and Dream putting away what they had gotten from the store. The sun was setting, colors like honey dripping through the windows, painting the room in a soft shade of orange. The sheer curtains not keeping the sunlight confined outside. The white walls in the house didn’t seem as dismal as the endless white in the airport. The lazy atmosphere and soft couch not doing much to help George’s sleepiness.

“Yes, George?” Something fell, a quiet curse followed suit.

A giggle bubbled out of George’s mouth, quickly morphing into a yawn. “I’m tired.”

The sound of a refrigerator closing and footsteps left him piecing together that Dream had come into the living room. Opening one eye, George discovered he was right.

Dream’s face was closer than he expected, but he was too tired to jump in surprise. Noting Dream’s freckles, he closed his eyes again, only to feel a gentle poke against his face. Another one. Another one.

“What are you doing, Dream?”

“Counting your freckles,” His voice sickeningly saccharine.

“Don’t touch my face with your dirty fingers.”

“What if I touched them with my lips?” A small smile graced George’s lips, he tried to straighten it. “You’re such an idiot.”

“That’s not a no, now is it?”

“Shut up and let me sleep.”

A huff of air followed his retort, he could practically hear the affectionate smile set on Dream’s face. George felt an arm sneak around his back and flinched, eyes snapping open.

“What the hell, Dream?”

His other arm made its way to where his knees bent, letting Dream pick him up bridal style. “I’m bringing you to Sapnap’s room since yours isn’t set up. I’m not letting you sleep on the couch,” He stated as if it were obvious, “Fuck, why are you _actually_ heavy?”

George let his eyes close again, “Maybe you’re just weak.”

He shut up after that.

Soon after, he was set down on a soft bed (which George would never admit aloud was, in fact, more comfortable than the couch).

The window was slightly cracked open, letting cool air breeze through. Stars danced with the moon in the dark sky, streetlights covering some of their shine. The hall light crept under the crack in the half-closed door, Patches must have nudged it open.

Sluggishly, George snuggled under the covers, Dream still sitting on the edge of the bed. The shorter opened an eye to look at him. His previous affectionate and delighted demeanor had dropped, instead replaced with something reluctant and guilty.

“What’s that face for?” His words were slightly slurred.

Dream snapped out of his small trance, “What face?”

“You know what face.”

He didn’t respond.

A long sigh escaped Dream’s lips. He brought up his hand to push George’s hair out of his eyes, hand resting there for longer than it needed to. It was so quiet he could hear Dream’s heartbeat. He leaned into the hand resting on his face. It was so quiet he could hear Dream stop breathing.

Dream brought his hand down further to cup George’s face.

“I think I _am_ weak,” he brushed his finger across his cheek, “for you.”

Not a beat passed, “Prove you aren’t.”

“...What?” Vulnerability laced his voice and the beginning of a blush rose to his cheeks.

“Kiss me, Dream.”

“You’re just tir-”

George placed his hand on top of the one resting on his face (their hands fit together perfectly) and opened an eye, “Please?”

Hesitantly, as if touching a piece of porcelain, Dream brushed a strand of George’s near-black hair out of his face, then placed a small kiss on a freckle under the shorter’s right eye. Then he kissed another, then another, growing ever more confident with each little butterfly kiss. George could feel him smiling through each one. His lips were slightly chapped. Once he ran out of freckles he leaned back, “We should get you out in the sun more, maybe then you’d have more freckles I could kiss.”

“You’re an idiot.” Pushing himself up, he tilted his head to meet the other’s lips. Dream let out a surprised, almost strangled sounding noise before slowly kissing back. Dream’s hand made its way back to rest on George’s face, subconsciously tracing circles on his cheek. Both of them were smiling too much for it to really be considered a kiss, but it felt like the weight of the sky had been lifted off their shoulders and a puzzle piece clicked together.

After a second, George timidly pulled away, still smiling like the world had given him everything he had ever desired. “I think that’s a good point to stop and sleep. Goodnight, Dream.”

And with that, he laid his head down on the pillow and fell asleep nearly instantly with a lovestruck grin. Dream stared at his sleeping face with a flustered expression, a face that felt overwhelmingly warm, a beating heart, and no answers.


End file.
